Summer of '75
by Dr. Mini Pie
Summary: Sirius is determined to get to the bottom of what's troubling Remus-even if it's a nearly bottomless pit. Marauders Era, between Year 4 and 5.
1. 31 July

**Doctor's Note:** I love the Marauders, and it was about time I made a real effort to write them! I'm not sure how long this story will go on for-I'm quite busy and not sure where exactly it should end. But please enjoy and leave a review! I would love any feedback/criticism (Or praise, of course. ;) ). -Dr. Mini Pie

Warnings: A few very mild swearwords.

* * *

James Potter dove sharply to avoid a collision with the little missile of a bird. He recovered in a moment, hunching over his broomstick in defence. James was no stranger to such airbourne encounters—especially out here in the country at his family's summer villa. Ruddy hazards, with their beaks and talons. _Way_ worse than Bludgers.

James squinted through his glasses and watched the unfased bird—an owl—turn in a graceful arc to reengage. Just before the owl swooped again, James spotted the envelopes bound to its ankle and suddenly recognised it.

"Gabriel!" he shouted over the high-altitude gusts. "Merlin's beard! If you've got a letter for me, just say so! Ho—"

James bent into a nose-dive, zooming straight down as close to terminal velocity as he could manage—challenging Gabriel to keep up. Gabriel did, looking almost bored; the pair reached the grounds of the villa as one and pulled into a neat landing.

"Right, hand it over, Gabe," said James, yanking off his dragonhide gloves with a grin. "Wicked dive, by the way."

Gabriel perched on the head of James'ss broomstick and offered his leg. James found his letter and out of curiosity began to rifle through the rest, but Gabriel hissed and ruffled his feathers. Swearing, James withdrew his hand.

"Cursed bird!"

"James? Are you alright?" It was his father calling from the porch. "We saw your dive from the window. Good heavens, was that bird _assaulting_ you?"

"M'alright!" shouted James. "Yeah, it's one of my mates' owls! He's fond of assaulting me. _Ouch!_ "

Gabriel had bitten his ear. James staggered off his broom and shooed the owl away.

"Geroff! You've got more letters to unleash upon some poor souls—off with you, then!"

Gabriel didn't need telling twice—the fierce little owl was already far afield.

James turned his letter over in his hand. It was delivered by Remus's owl, alright, but not addressed in Remus's handwriting. Intrigued, James shook open the envelope. An odd, thin piece of parchment slid out. It was not handwritten, rather printed in a bizarre typeset.

"Come inside and have tea with us, won't you," called James's father. "You've been out there all day."

"Yeah, alright!"

He read as he strode toward the house, his broom over his shoulder.

* * *

Gabriel cleared the next leg of his journey in under two hours. Regrettably, no one was home. The owl alighted upon one of the worn-down gateposts which surrounded the cramped suburban yard.

Gabriel's already impatient wait was further aggravated by a sudden bombardment of local songbirds. Defending their nearby nests, no doubt. Gabriel glowered as the birds screeched and clawed and flapped about in hysteria. He was about to make an example of one of the sparrows when a short and rather plump teen-aged boy came dashing up the pavement.

"Oh, silly me!" cried Peter Pettigrew, waving his arms to scatter the songbirds. "I forgot to leave open the owl door!"

Gabriel shook out his feathers and extended a perfunctory foot. Peter didn't notice.

"You're Remus's owl, right?" he asked the bird. "The one who hates everyone except Remus?"

Gabriel didn't have time for Peter's niceties. He leaped right onto the boy's head and stuck the letter-bearing limb in his face. Peter stumbled several steps backward in alarm.

"Eeagh!"

He fumbled with trembling hands for the letter. The instant it was free, Gabriel shot off his head and vanished over the neighbour's garden wall.

Peter rubbed his head and tried to calm his breathing.

"You're a menace!" he called after it weakly.

* * *

Sirius Black felt rather than heard his brother Regulus's angry fist pound against the door of his bedroom at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London—drowned out as it was by a whining guitar and rasping, impassioned vocals. Sirius cranked the volume of his Muggle radio up an extra notch, lay sideways on his bed, and indulged in a handsome, triumphant smirk.

Yet the pounding persisted, far beyond Regulus's usual capacity for patience. His interest piqued, Sirius let it go on until the end of the song; he then turned down his radio (though not by much), slid off his bed and strolled to the door. He opened it to chaos.

" _Get—this—thing—away—from—me!_ " Regulus was staggering around the landing, shielding his head with one arm and swatting desperately at a furiously bellicose tawny owl.

Sirius cackled. "What'd you do to piss it off so badly?"

"I didn't! Nothing!" shouted Regulus. "I just tried to take the letter off its leg—aaah!" He almost toppled backward down the stairs, deflecting a series of rapid blows. The owl stopped mid-strike when it saw Sirius. It whizzed past them both and into the bedroom, out of sight. Regulus clutched the banister and doubled over to catch his breath. He was covered in scratches.

"Next time," said Sirius, meeting Regulus's sharp glare full-on, "don't go through someone else's post."

"Git."

Sirius shut his door. He ran a hand through his wavy black hair as he turned around—casual, but braced for action all the same. This was _Remus's_ owl, after all.

Gabriel perched on the bedpost closest to Sirius. A few of his feathers stuck out at odd ends after his recent scuffle, and his foot was already thrust out. He looked mad. Sirius couldn't help but smirk.

"Going on five years," he said, "and you still scare the ruddy _Dark Lord_ out of me." He stepped forward and reached for his letter, keeping as much distance between himself and the bird as he could manage. Gabriel let him take it.

"Odd—that's not Moony's writing," Sirius muttered, ripping open the envelope. He glanced up—Gabriel hadn't moved. "Go on," said Sirius, nodding toward his open window. "What're you just sitting there for?"

Gabriel waited. Sirius rolled his eyes and wandered over to his window to read the letter.

Thurs., 31 July

Dear Mr. Sirius Black,

How are you? I hope you've had a lovely summer holiday.

I know you to be one of Remus's closest friends. Might you be prevailed upon to pay him a visit over the weekend of 15 August?

He's been out of sorts lately, and I'd wager a visit from you is guaranteed to lift his spirits as nothing else could.

You are welcome to send back your answer with Gabriel, although he can be a tad contentious.

Please don't let Remus know I've invited you—I'd like it to be a surprise for him.

All my best regards,

Hope Lupin

"Oi! Gabriel!" Sirius snapped at the owl. "Wait right where you are." It was Gabriel's turn to roll his eyes.

Sirius strode to his antique writing desk and rummaged in the stationery drawer, drawing out a quill, a crumpled roll of parchment, and a small mirror. "James Potter," he said to the mirror, and began writing straight away.

"Alright, Sirius?"

"Alright, Prongs?" Sirius greeted the misty face of James, doubly obscured by the boy's thick glasses.

"No antlers yet, mate," said James, rubbing a hand over his hair.

"Soon enough," said Sirius.

"Listen, I was just about to call you myself. I got a letter—"

"From Moony's mental owl," Sirius finished for him. He dipped his quill hurriedly as he wrote and splashed ink over the parchment. "Nearly clawed Regulus's eyes out. Not that I'd have minded..."

"You got one, too, then?" ask James. "Was your letter from Mrs. Lupin as well?"

Sirius nodded. "Says Moony needs cheering up. Obviously I'm going." He glanced at James. "You're going?"

"I can't," said James with honest regret. "We're leaving for India on Monday."

Sirius looked sharply at James, and then bent moodily back over his parchment. "...Fine."

"You know I would, mate, if I could," implored James. "But I'll be stuck with my family on our foreign escapades 'til school starts."

"I know."

James cast about for a change of subject. "You're writing her back already?"

"Gabriel's here to glare at me until I do, I think." Sirius shot a dark look at the bird, who was indeed glaring. "But I _would have anyway._ "

"D'you think Peter got one?"

"Dunno."

"His mum's got that surgery—he might have to stay with her."

"Maybe."

James'ss head started bobbing—he appeared to be walking with his mirror.

"I wonder what's got into Remus?" he said, thoughtful. "He sounded alright in his last letter."

Sirius scribbled out a word. "So did he in his last letter to _me_ , but you know as well as I do, that doesn't mean a _blasted_ thing."

"I know." James sighed.

Sirius jotted down his last line in hasty, swooping letters and signed the bottom. He wiped his hand on his face, streaking his high cheekbone with ink.

James raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Your family won't be too keen on you visiting your half-blood, werewolf friend," he said. "What will you tell them?"

Sirius folded his parchment and stuffed it into an envelope. "Nothing," he said flatly. He reached across his desk for his Ever-Burning Candle and his seal. "What they don't know, regrettably, won't hurt them."

Sirius let a dollop of hot wax from the candle drop onto the envelope. He smashed down the wax with his own, personal seal. It was the Black family crest—the same as the original, except for the family motto inscribed on the banner, which instead of " _Toujours Pur_ " read " _Toujours Cur_."


	2. 15 August

**Doctor's Note:** Thank you for reading and for your reviews! :) Enjoy the introduction of Remus's parents here in Chapter Two! - Dr. MP

Warnings: A few mild swearwords. (You can thank Sirius.)

* * *

Thurs. 31 July

Dear Mrs. Lupin,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I received your letter and would like to say, Yes, I would be very pleased to accept your invitation to visit Remus the weekend of 15 August.

I will keep my visit a secret from - _Moony-_ **Remus** in any correspondence.

Thank you for your permission to send my reply with Gabriel. He'll be pleased by a dead rat I've got on hand for him.

Best Regards,

 _Sirius B._

Hope Lupin stood at her dresser and reread the letter. Her light, greying hair was pulled back in a bun save her messy fringe, and an old pair of gardening coveralls hung off her tiny frame.

Hope had never been comfortable using Gabriel to send letters and had been embarrassed by her use of her typewriter—so obviously 'Muggle' and lacking. But her son's best friend Sirius had replied with such enthusiasm and unpretentiousness as to lift her own spirits considerably.

Hope absently touched her finger against the scribbled-over word in the letter. _Moony._ All three boys had responded with gusto—without hesitation—concerned over Remus. Even if two of them had been indisposed, they were true and wonderful friends, indeed—and one would be here this very evening.

Footsteps creaked outside the bedroom door. Hope stuffed the letter under the linens in her top drawer and managed to shut it just before her husband Lyall—thin and anxious and worn-out, but smiling warmly—entered the tiny room.

"Oh, welcome home," Hope said with a relieved sigh. She returned Lyall's smile and took his rather shabby wizard's hat and outer robes to fold over her arm. "Sorry—I thought you might be Remus. Have you had a good day?"

"I am _home_ again, and therefore it is good," he answered simply, kissing her forehead. He stepped over to the bedside and loosened his wide tie. "And tonight's the night, isn't it?"

"Keep your voice down," said Hope. "Yes, it is."

Lyall draped his tie over the back of their bedroom chair. "What time is he arriving? How is he getting here?"

Hope rolled her eyes gently. She whispered, "I've told you scores of times, my dear. Sirius will be arriving by broom—one he's borrowed from James, I believe—a fast and expensive one. I've told him to drop in round the back at eight o'clock."

Lyall studied the small clock that sat on the dresser. "That's soon," he said. "And Remus still has no idea?"

"I don't think so. He hasn't let on at all."

Lyall rubbed his calloused hands together and indulged a lopsided grin. "Well, this is quite exciting."

"Yes," agreed Hope, beaming as well. Lyall drew her into a hug. Though Lyall was thin, Hope was still much smaller and fit snugly into his arms, coat and hat and all.

"I hope he's happy to see him," Lyall mused.

Hope leaned into his gentle embrace. "Nothing in all the world could make him happier."

* * *

Sirius scanned the hilly Welsh countryside below him, hot wind whipping through his flowing hair. He was not as adept on a broom as James, but he could hold his own; and he'd done quite well on this hours-long, solo trek across Great Britain. But _how_ he was ever supposed to find the Lupins' tiny cottage nestled among these endless stretches of farm and forest, he honestly had no idea.

"Where d'you reckon it is?" he asked himself aloud.

Not a minute later, Sirius spotted a tiny brown speck hovering in the air above a patch of wood. As Sirius hurtled toward it, he made it out to be the shape of a bird.

"It's Gabe!" he exclaimed.

Sirius angled downward. Gabriel waited until Sirius was only a few metres away and just about level with him. Then he shot off over the patch of woods.

" _Cursed bird!_ "

Sirius tailed Gabriel with none of the grace of a Quidditch Seeker but with _all_ the fuel of anger and adrenaline. He flew so low that he smacked against the tops of the trees, snatching his clothes on branches and battering his trunk. Gabriel seemed to be rather enjoying himself.

At the edge of the wood, Gabriel took a sudden dive. Sirius caught sight of a quaint rooftop and halted his broom, lowering out of view. "This must be it," he said. There was no more sign of Gabriel.

Sirius touched down in the midst of the thin wood. He hoisted his broomstick and trunk over his shoulder and tread as lightly as he could toward the cottage.

* * *

Hope was peeling vegetables in the kitchen to calm her fluttering nerves when Gabriel soared through the open window and landed on his perch. He clicked his beak at her insistently—Sirius had arrived. Hope abandoned her vegetables, pulled on her shoes, and slipped out the kitchen door.

She crossed her tiny garden and hurried through the back gate. She reached the trees and, peering in, made out a shadowy figure lurking among the branches.

"Hello, Sirius!" she whispered brightly. "It's me—it's Remus's mother!"

"Mrs. Lupin? Hullo!"

"Come to the edge of the wood," she insisted. He did so, and Hope saw for the first time one of those faces which Remus had so often described. Sirius was every bit as bold and handsome as she'd pictured him. Although he was smiling broadly, there was an air of roughness about him—perhaps haughtiness, or defiance—that suggested he was not to be crossed.

"I'm so glad you've come," Hope said, moving in to embrace him. Sirius returned the gesture with one arm, shifting his broom and trunk.

"Thanks for having me here," he said as they pulled away. "Where's Remus?"

"Inside," said Hope. "In his room, far as I know. How shall we go about surprising him?"

Sirius frowned. "I hadn't thought about it."

"I had one idea—oh, and please give me those, you've had a long journey," offered Hope, taking Sirius's trunk and broomstick from him.

"Thanks."

"Think nothing of it. Anyway, here it is." Hope leaned in and whispered with a conspiratorial flair— _quite worthy of a so-called_ Marauder's _mother_ , she thought to herself. "I'll tell Remus he's got a parcel from one of his friends, and have him come round the corner to where you'll be hiding. Or the other way around— _you_ could come round the corner. It's not much, but it might do. What do you say?"

Sirius regarded her for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded.

"It works. I like it. Otherwise we're liable to give him a real shock," he reasoned.

Hope nodded in return. "I thought that, too," she said, trying not to sound too proud that such a master prankster had approved of her humble plan. "Come along, then. Follow me, and keep quiet."

Hope led Sirius back through her garden and into the cramped but cheerful kitchen. She set Sirius's things against the wall by the door. From his perch across the room, Gabriel glared and snapped at his owlish equivalent of what the cat dragged in—Sirius, for his part, glared right back.

"You'll be treating our guest with _dignity_ , Gabriel," hissed Hope, jabbing a stern finger which the bird disregarded. "I'll have none of that."

Hope and Sirius both looked up in alarm when they heard a throat clear. But it was only Lyall standing in the sitting room doorway, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ tucked under one arm and a cup of tea clutched in the same hand. He offered Sirius a brief but sincere smile before he directed a pointed look at Hope.

"Remus has come down," he said, voice so low he almost mouthed the words.

"Where is he?" Hope mouthed back. Lyall nodded over his shoulder— _in the sitting room_.

Hope turned swiftly to Sirius. She took him by the arm and pointed to a shadowy enclave across the room, where her pantry was. Sirius understood—under the cover of Lyall blocking the doorway, he crept to the spot and crouched down.

Lyall stepped over to the stove, evidently still intending to refill his cup of tea whether or not there was a great _coup_ taking place in his kitchen. Hope kicked off her shoes and resumed her seat at the table. She could make out Remus's profile in the sitting room. He sat reading by lamplight.

"Remus, love?" she called to him. Lyall clinked pots and china behind her. "Gabriel's just dropped in with a parcel for you."

She saw him look up. "...who's it from?" he asked.

"Your mate from school...Sirius," she said, glancing at the shadowy corner. Sirius winked at her. It was all she could do not to grin. She truly had to fight it off, though, for Remus had risen from his chair and had come to the doorway. She noticed he still wore his pyjamas.

"Really?" he said. "It came just now?"

"A moment ago, yes," she said casually.

"Where is it?"

Lyall had finished pouring his fresh cup and now stood behind his wife, tactfully shielding Sirius's trunk and broomstick from view. "It was rather heavy," he said, and took a careful sip of tea. "I've set it over by the pantry, there."

"Heavy...?" Remus seemed confused. Hope's heart pounded in her chest. She watched the scene play out in slow motion as her son peered around the corner, looking at the ground where he thought a parcel should be—then seeing a pair of legs instead, and snapping his head up, startled—then staring with wider and wider eyes as his best mate in the whole world spread his arms out, flipped his long hair out of his face, and said with gleeful relish,

"Heavier than a full-grown Acromantula, and _creepier_ , too...and _we'd_ know all about that, eh, mate?"

Remus couldn't form words.

Sirius dropped his arms and shot a guilty look at Remus's parents. "Bloody hell," he muttered, "They _do_ know about that particular detention, don't they?"

Remus slowly turned his head. He looked at Lyall and then at Hope. His eyes shone with utter disbelief and deep gratitude. Hope held his gaze for a long moment.

"I'm sure we've heard tell of it," said Hope, smiling, though she was certain she had not. She would hear tell of it _soon_ , to be sure...

At last and with seemingly great difficulty, Remus looked away from his mother and back at his friend.

"Sirius..." he began. "...She's lying, mate. I'm in for it."

In an instant the boys were embracing, and laughing, and squeezing each other fit to burst.

Hope felt Lyall's hand on her shoulder.

"You work more clever magic than a witch ever could, my love," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Hope rubbed her eye with the heel of her palm. "I do, don't I?"


	3. 16 August

Doctor's Note: Please enjoy Chapter Three, long overdue! It takes place at a place I'd love to visit one day. - Dr. MP

Warnings: Sirius swears mildy. Why am I not surprised?

* * *

"You can't slip up and call me 'Moony' at dinner," warned Remus, shimmying between two weatherworn fence posts and leaping down onto a patch of sandy crags.

"You know, Moony, I'm not as thick as my exam marks might suggest," rejoined Sirius, sliding through after him.

Remus snorted. " _Suggest?_ More like _proclaim from the rooftops_."

Sirius looked offended. "After all the trouble I've gone through, this is the thanks I get?"

Remus's responding smile, however small, told him enough.

The pair made their way down to the shore, only a half-hour's walk from the Lupins' cottage. The sky was cloudy, and the air still hung about in heavy pockets of humidity, though the slicing winds from the sea helped to dissipate it. The beach was littered with stones, speckles of taupe and mossy green that formed tiny pools in the sand. A few gulls shrieked nearby.

A flash of red and white caught Sirius's eye. Someone had left a pair of trainers nestled between the stones, perhaps to take a barefoot stroll by the shore. The owner was nowhere in sight—indeed, the beach was all but empty.

"Now _that_ looks like a brilliant idea," said Sirius, already working off one of his leather boots. He'd been perfecting his punk-rock Muggle look for a good while now, and the boots were his favorite touch.

Remus mimicked him, sitting down to slide his feet out of his scuffed loafers and rolling up his pant legs for good measure. "I'm surprised there aren't more people here," he remarked. He placed his shoes neatly next to Sirius' cast-off pair. "There usually are, this time of year."

"Ah, well." Sirius stretched like a cat. "Who needs _people?_ "

The barefoot boys sought out the least rocky path they could find.

Sirius let Remus take the side closer to the ocean—better-suited for brooding, Sirius thought, and Remus did not disappoint. Remus kept his hands in his pockets and walked with his head down.

"You said James will be travelling to India?" Remus asked eventually. It was hard to hear his quiet voice against the wind.

"Yeah." Sirius frowned. "Prongs has a hard time not playing the part of the _rich git_ , sometimes."

Remus looked up, startled by Sirius's gruffness. "Have you two had a row?" he asked.

Sirius kicked at a mound of wet sand. "No," he said, "he just _does_. Why couldn't he come and visit you for a day or two before? He's not leaving 'til Monday."

"Surely he has to pack, and generally prepare."

"You and I ought to fly over and grab Pete, and we'll all invite ourselves to the Ongoing Potter Family Vacation," Sirius suggested. "Are you up for it?"

Remus laughed without much humor. "That would go over really well," he said, and turned his gaze back down to his feet.

Sirius knew his best mate well enough by now—enough to know that whatever was eating at Remus was deliberately buried very, very deep. Sirius had been casually certain that he'd be able to snap Remus out of his funk without much fuss. Yet almost twenty-four hours later—practically an eternity to fourteen-year-old Sirius—he was no closer than he had been when he'd first sprung out of hiding in Mrs. Lupins's pantry.

The clouds rolled in from the sea, on and on, and the relentless breeze had Sirius's hair sweeping about in all directions. He pushed it out of his eyes and summoned as much gusto as he could.

"Moony," he said, "you'll have to get used to calling me 'Padfoot.' Might as well start now."

Remus glanced up. "You're not an animagus yet, Sirius," he said.

"Say it with me," Sirius ploughed on, "'Wotcher, Padfoot! Oi, Padfoot, how do you get your hair to look so good? Is there something in that fresh, coastal air? Tell us your secret, Padfoot! Cheers, Padfoot!'"

"Alright, alright," said Remus, and he chuckled a little more honestly. "How about, 'Shut up, Padfoot?'"

Sirius grinned. "That's the Moony I know."

They reached a dense outcropping of stones that built up to a headland, where the waves rammed with eternal rage against the shore. Remus stopped and dug his bare heels into the sand.

"I usually stop here," he said in Sirius's general direction. "Those rocks stretch on for ages."

"Fine by me," said Sirius, and he flopped down flat on his back. The wet sand squelched beneath his weight and appeared to begin drawing him under as he sank down. Remus regarded him flatly for a moment before hoisting himself onto an adjacent large stone. He drew his knees up to his chest, set his chin on them, and closed his eyes.

Sirius was surprisingly comfortable in his cold and damp cocoon. He did his utmost to let the silence linger, to let some of the peace of nature sink in and be absorbed by the both of them. He made it about thirty seconds.

"Moony," he said as he shifted his weight onto one elbow to peer up at Remus.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Hm?"

"What's got into you, mate?"

Though he kept his eyes shut, Remus's neutral expression seemed to harden. He didn't answer. Sirius frowned.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes, I heard you," Remus said tersely. "I'm fine."

Sirius's snort and eye-roll were both missed by Remus. "You know you're a pitiful liar, Moony—"

"I did a decent job for almost two years, if you haven't forgotten," snapped Remus, his eyes flashing open, "and I don't want you to call me that."

Sirius sat up, shocked into temporary silence. He met Remus's glare and felt the sting of hurt for only a moment before it began to be eclipsed by anger. But before Sirius could open his mouth to reply, he was knocked back into the hard, packed sand by a whizzing brown bullet. He spat debris out of his mouth and thrust his hair out of his face.

"What the ruddy devil?!"

"Gabriel?"

Sirius looked up and saw Remus reach out an arm—sure enough, the owl zipped right over Sirius's head and perched on Remus's forearm. His feathers blew in every direction, but he clung with one foot admirably as he held out the other to Remus. Puzzled, Remus took hold of the thick, crinkled parchment.

"Who's that from?" asked Sirius. "And how on earth did you get that blasted bird to _not claw your eyes out_ like that, by the way?"

Remus half-heard him. "It's from James," he said slowly, turning the letter over in his hand. "He says he's...not going to India...he's coming here!"

"What?" Sirius leapt to his feet, sending a tidal wave of wet sand at Remus and earning a hiss from Gabriel. "When? _How?_ "

Remus fought an incredulous smile. "He says he...gave his parents the slip at the International Floo...and hopes that his _amnesia potion_ doesn't wear off until First September—when his parents ' _ought to remember they have a son.'_ This is _outrageous!_ "

Sirius punched the air. "Prongs!" he proclaimed. "You're my _hero,_ Prongs! _Merlin's beard!_ "

Remus re-folded the letter. "He ought not to have done that!" he said, trying hard to play the responsible part in the face of his obvious excitement. "Not for me. What if something happens to him on his way here? His parents wouldn't know—"

"Nothing's gonna happen," said Sirius. "It's _Prongs._ _Felix Felicis_ runs through his veins. I swear if you cut him he'd bleed _gold._ " He looked out to sea as a sailor would, as though watching for the ships to come in. "I reckon he's halfway here already!"

"You reckon?" Remus's gaze was also drawn to the horizon. Gabriel, too, glared dutifully into the wind.

"I _know_ he is!"

The trio stood sentinel for a good minute. Then Gabriel nudged Remus's hand with his face once, alighted onto a tumbling gust of wind, and flapped off toward the mainland.

"We should go," said Remus. Sirius grinned and nodded and bounded through the surf back the way they came. Remus walked slowly behind him.


	4. 18 August

**Doctor's Note:** I think we've either reached or passed the halfway point. Thank you for reading and for any feedback! - Dr. MP

* * *

 _If one looked up the word 'chaos' in the dictionary, one would most certainly find a photograph of these boys_ , thought Hope Lupin for the sixth or seventh time that afternoon. _Same goes for whatever a Wizard calls a dictionary—with one of those_ moving _photographs._

She had foolishly attempted to make a little more headway on her new paperback, but she had made it barely two pages before another loud _crash_ , followed by whoops and hollers, rang through the house.

"You flew this broom all the way here on your own, Sirius!" Hope heard the breezy, glowing, slightly posh accent of James Potter, who had swaggered out through the Floo yesterday morning. He had in fact gone to India for a little while, but couldn't stand the thought of his friends having all the fun without him—though he was there long enough to amass a sizeable trunkful of exotic souvenirs.

"Come now, Sirius," she heard James call out between bouts of laughter, "it can't be _that_ difficult!"

"I happened not to be _blindfolded and bound backward to the broom_ at the time, dearest James!"

Hope listened for her own son's laughter. She knew Remus was the "quiet one", the "nice one", the "responsible one" who did what he could to keep his and his friends' records clean. It had tickled her and Lyall to no end last night over dinner as James and Sirius described some of their most memorable (and likely censored) escapades at school. Remus had kept his eyes on his food, blushing, but had smiled a little.

She listened, but she didn't hear Remus's laugh. She set her book down and crept to the open front window.

Hope scanned the front yard as best she could while remaining surreptitious at the edge of the window. She saw Sirius tied to James's expensive-looking broom, upside down and tangled in the upper branches of their walnut tree. Leaves and twigs fell steadily as Sirius struggled to propel himself out. His blindfold hung from one ear now, and his long hair fell in his face.

James stood a safe distance away, clutching his own broom and bent halfway over it with laughter. He wore a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey, polo shorts, and designer Quidditch boots. With his gold-trimmed luggage and stylish wardrobe, James looked even more well-off than Sirius did. But if James was at all pretentious, it was entirely by accident. Hope saw the makings of a pure and humble heart in him.

And there was Remus, sitting against the fence among the bushes, slowly pulling out fistfuls of grass and watching his friends.

Hope frowned. She knew he wasn't feeling well this close to the moon (and these boys' last day at the Lupin Cottage would be tomorrow because of it). But it was so unlike him to sit out of any fun with his best mates, especially with the full knowledge they'd come all this way to spend time with him.

Sirius was flung from the tree just then, hurtling up and over the house as though shot from a sling. James leapt with delight and ran around the back to follow his friend's trajectory. Remus's eyes followed them both—it took him a moment before he dumped his pile of grass, stood, brushed off his knees and slowly walked after them. Before he could glimpse Hope through the window, she ducked out of view.

Hope sighed deeply. She returned to her tatty sofa and crinkled paperback, but had no interest in the words.

Remus seemed to have sunken back into his shell. Had it not been a good idea to invite his friends, after all?

* * *

Lyall came home at six-thirty, and the Lupins and their two houseguests sat down to another warm and comfortable dinner. Sirius still had twigs sticking out of his hair. Lyall was quite taken with James and Sirius's antics and endless stream of stories and humor, but Hope kept one eye on Remus. He smiled whenever someone looked at him, but hardly touched his food.

After dinner, the boys absconded to the yard again. Hope sat with Lyall and managed to read some of her book—it was a little easier to resist a peek out the window with his dependable hand in hers.

An hour or so after dark, the three boys came in through the back door, kicking off their trainers and shuffling tiredly past Hope and Lyall to Remus's room. James and Sirius grinned and waved goodnight, but Remus stayed behind a moment and looked between his parents.

"I'll tell them they have to leave tomorrow," he said quietly.

"Yes," agreed Lyall, and Hope nodded. Remus gazed at them a moment more, face unreadable, then turned and followed the others.

Lyall and Hope exchanged a look.

"It's for the best," they both said at the same time.

* * *

Hope was alone with a preening Gabriel in the kitchen, setting out the china for breakfast and tea in the morning, when from the corner of her eye she saw a pyjama-clad Sirius appear in the doorway.

" _Noswaith dda_ ," she said over her shoulder with a smile. "Good evening, Sirius—how are you?"

"Oh, alright, thanks," he said. He seemed a bit nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

He hovered on the threshold and didn't elaborate. Hope wiped her hands on a dish towel.

"Would you like a cup of tea or warm milk?" she asked to break the silence.

He hesitated. "Tea would be grand," he said, a little awkward and unsure. "If it's alright."

"It's nothing, dear," she said and smiled reassuringly. "I reckon I'll have a cup, as well."

"Thanks."

While Hope boiled the water, Gabriel finished his preening and fixed one baleful yellow eye on Sirius. He gave his talon an extra flick—perhaps a bit of a warning.

"I dunno how Remus gets that owl to like him," mused Sirius, narrowing his eyes at the bird. "He's always loathed me and James, and Peter. With a passion."

Hope set a slightly chipped mug in front of Sirius and a floral mug in front of the chair across from him. She rolled her eyes. "He's always loathed _everyone_ but Remus. Has Remus never told you the story of when he got Gabriel?"

"No—doesn't tell too many stories these days," said Sirius, crossing his arms. He did not say this with bitterness, but rather with an inflection of worry that was startling to Hope—startling in its similarity to her own worry.

"Yes..." She crossed her own arms and cast her mind back. "His father took him to the shops there on Diagon Alley, before his first year at Hogwarts. We weren't sure if we needed a pet for Remus—you know, the school offers loan owls, and Lyall would mail all his letters from work—but when they passed by the owl store—I don't remember what it was called—anyway, Remus was transfixed by the birds and at least wanted to have a look."

"He loves magical creatures," nodded Sirius—but he seemed to think of something else after he said it, and pressed his mouth into a shy line.

Hope went on, "Yes, he does, like his father. They went into the owl shop, but as soon as they set foot inside, all these beautiful, demure birds suddenly had a fit and began _hissing_ and _screeching_ at Remus and his dad."

Sirius blinked in surprise. "What? They did?"

"Yes! Drove nearly everyone out of the shop, it was so bad. The boys tried to look for a minute, but it grew unbearable to them, too. They turned to go." Hope lifted the steaming kettle from the stove and carried it over to the table. "But before they made it to the door," she said as she poured the hot water over the teabags, "several owls swooped down off their perches and started going after Remus. Milk?"

"Oh—yes, thanks," muttered Sirius. "But why did they attack Remus?"

Hope tipped the pitcher of milk into both their mugs. "I don't know," she sighed. Lyall and Remus shared a theory, but Sirius couldn't know it. "It could have been very bad, though—all those angry owls, with their beaks and talons."

She sat down. Sirius leaned in over his tea, riveted. "Lyall drew his wand out to drive the owls back," said Hope, "and was about to cost the store a great deal of damage—until from out of nowhere, like a lightning bolt, this little brown owl whizzed in front of Remus's face, and blocked the other owls' attacks."

"What?" Sirius gaped at Gabriel, who ruffled his feathers proudly as though he understood the story.

"Lyall said that it was one owl against at least ten or twelve—but the little owl was so furious, so violent in defence, that the other owls backed off.

"The shop owner ran up to them at that point. Remus was scared and shaking, and looking up at the little owl, who was perched right near him, still glaring 'round at the other owls. The owner had seen the whole thing—he said the little Tawny owl had always caused the problems, not the other way 'round. Said he'd never seen anything like it."

"So..." ventured Sirius, "they decided to buy him?"

Hope smiled. "The Tawny was sold for a very heavy discount to one immensely grateful Remus Lupin."

"Huh." Sirius sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "That's mental."

"I agree," said Hope. "Oh—the tea should be ready."

"Thanks."

It was a tolerable silence for a few minutes following the tale, as Hope sipped her nighttime tea. Crickets chirped and insects hummed loudly outside, and before too long Gabriel swept off his perch and out the open window.

Eventually, Sirius clasped his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. "Er—Mrs. Lupin..." he began, then seemed angry at his own reluctance and plowed ahead. "Mrs. Lupin, I wanted to ask if I could stay here til the start of term."

 _This was what he's wanted to ask from the beginning_ , thought Hope. _No—not_ ask.

Sirius had said "ask." But he was not asking. His gray eyes were set, and though they did not disrespect Hope, they yet defied her.

She wanted to say yes, oh, of course she did. But there was no way the boys could stay through Thursday's moon. She held Sirius's gaze and tried to work out what she would say, and how she would say it.

But Sirius continued. "Remus said we had to—well, he asked us to leave tomorrow," he said. " _For no good reason._ "

As he said this, Hope looked at him, and what she'd known all along in the back of her mind materialised as a coherent thought.

 _He knows._

 _They both know._

"But Remus is still unwell, I don't think, and—and I don't want to leave him already," Sirius said with finality. He glared down into his mug.

Hope traced the rim of her own mug with her forefinger. She closed her eyes.

"Would your parents miss you, being away so long?" she asked quietly.

Sirius was not expecting this. "No," was his curt reply. "No, they won't." He waited to see what Hope would say next.

Hope kept her eyes shut. She sighed deeply.

"Sirius," she said, "it's alright with me. But I will need to ask Lyall."

Sirius raised his eyes to hers as she opened them.

"He needs help," she said simply, and the full weight of her exhaustion and anxiety over Remus seemed to hit her like a freight train in that moment. Her shoulders sagged, and she felt a hundred years old.

Sirius looked at her, and he nodded.

"You and James—please do your best."

He nodded again. "We will."

Hope realised then she was crying, and she wiped her eyes without shame. Sirius's own eyes appeared to glisten.

"We will, Mrs. Lupin," he said again, gruffly. "Thanks. Thank you." He pushed out his chair and strode to the doorway.

"Thanks," he said one last time, and left the kitchen.

Hope sat still a minute longer. Then she stood and gathered their mugs to take to the sink. Sirius hadn't touched the tea.


	5. 19-21 August

What ensued might almost have been entertaining, if it was not such a desperate affair in general. Hope was repeatedly taken aside by her husband and her son in equal turn, always privately and always urgently, that they might implore her to—

" _Send the boys home._ " Lyall's wild-eyed stare was more mad than Hope had seen him in ages. " _Please_ , Hope. If you won't do it, then I will..."

He didn't, of course.

" _Please_ , mum," begged Remus. "I've told them to go a hundred times, the moon is almost here—you've got to tell them to go home!"

She didn't, of course.

Sirius, whom Hope now considered her confidant, kept an ear out for these furtive little conversations, and as a result only doubled down on his efforts to bolster Remus's spirits. The three lads took numerous walks down to the shore; positively destroyed the yard after Lord knew how many games involving a broomstick; and even watched (and poked fun at) scores of old programs on Hope's ancient television set.

"Merlin's hairy old beard," James exclaimed once after an episode of the American program _Gilligan's Island_ , "Muggle entertainment is _loads_ better than anything magic! I'd swear on my life!"

"You're joking. It's _idiotic_ ," said Sirius, kicking James in the shin.

"It's a classic," Remus mumbled—then looked desperately over the sofa at his mum.

Hope wouldn't lie and say it wasn't difficult. It was very difficult, in actual fact. She loved Lyall and Remus and would do anything for them, but she could not do this one thing, no matter how anguished their continual pleas. It was Thursday now—the full moon—and she had almost won the battle.

With any luck, together she and Sirius and James would win the war.

Remus slept through most of the day, curled up on top of his bedding. James and Sirius kept to themselves in the sitting room, conversing in low voices and paging through an assortment of textbooks Hope was surprised to see. She hadn't expected them to be studying anything on holiday.

Just before Lyall was to be home, she ushered them back to Remus's room. They both understood (though James shot Sirius a few questioning looks) and stayed out of the way as she roused Remus from his exhausted slumber and led him out.

"Remus will be back in the morning," she said over her shoulder, gazing pointedly at Sirius. "You boys stay in here for the night. I'll bring supper in a little while."

"Thanks, Mrs. Lupin," said Sirius grimly.

* * *

When she'd gone, James swung to face Sirius, who deliberately held a poker face.

"She knows we know?!" he hissed, incredulous.

"Neither one of us has been very subtle," Sirius whispered. "Yeah, she knows."

"She doesn't care, then?"

"Evidently not!"

"Does Mr. Lupin know?"

"Would you shut up?"

"It's a serious question!"

James did shut his mouth, however, when they heard the unmistakable crack of apparition—Lyall arriving home at the front doorstep. Moments later, they heard him address Hope gruffly,

"Are those lads still here?"

"Yes, I told them Remus would be back in the morning."

"Did you say where he'd be going?"

"I'll explain when I bring them supper."

There was a pause—surely some wordless exchange—and Sirius and James held their breath. But when Lyall spoke again, it was gentle.

"How're you feeling, son?"

"M'alright."

James and Sirius glanced at one another. _By Jove, Remus lies to his own_ parents _, too._

"Let's get you out to the shed."

Sirius and James sat back against Remus's bed. They now had only the horrible wait ahead of them. Their greatest challenge would come tomorrow, trying to reach Remus and steadily cheering him on. But any challenge of theirs, Sirius thought, was nothing compared to what Remus had to face—even now—alone and ill in a dark shed, bracing for unbearable pain and hours on end of a living nightmare.

* * *

No one in the Lupin cottage slept well that night. They could not hear the wolf, for Lyall routinely cast dozens of silencing and reinforcing spells. Yet neither could they hear Remus—and that was who they listened for.

After hours of agitated animagus research, James finally surrendered to sleep around four in the morning. Sirius took a little longer—he collapsed at half-past.

Hope checked in on them at five, easing the door open. She never slept a wink during moons. Even when Remus was at school, she remained electrified with worry until Gabriel brought her the hasty note from Remus she so desperately craved: "I'm ok, Mum. Love you."

Thank heavens it was summer, and the days were longer. The sun would rise soon.

She paced back and forth in her dressing gown through the shadowy kitchen. The curtains were drawn to hide the shed from view. Gabriel was not at his perch.

She felt quite alone.

* * *

Lyall winced against the blinding light of morning as he led his son through the garden.

"We'll get you fixed up, Remus, come on, lad. Just a little farther, now."

Hope met them at the kitchen door. She took Remus's other arm and wrapped it gently over her slight shoulders.

"There now, my love, you're doing splendidly. Mummy's got you," she murmured. Then, to Lyall, "You've closed it all the way? It looks like a lot of blood."

"I closed it, there wasn't another."

"Will you check again when I get him undressed?"

"Yes..."

Sirius, hearing all this, pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall. How bad was it? Was this ordinary? Was this worse than ever?

How bad _was_ it?


End file.
